


Remember me

by beebro_fuckboyd



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Ancient Rome, M/M, Reincarnation, Slavery, Temporary Character Death, Vampires, Violence, a little less sixteen candles a little more touch me, centuries au, modern au eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-16 01:08:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8080837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beebro_fuckboyd/pseuds/beebro_fuckboyd
Summary: When things go to the pits, they can always sink further to hell.One day you may be a slave in ancient Rome, the next it's 2005 and your best friend's alive again. Blink, and it's 2016, there are only two of you, and things are never gonna look up.





	1. It starts in ancient Rome

**Author's Note:**

> It's kinda hard to tag this fic, and do the summary without giving everything away. One tag does though, you've probably got it.  
> This is basically just a set up chapter.

Even when things are in the pits, they’re the worst you possibly think they can get, they’re unbearable, and hellish, things can always get worse. Even if you escape the hell, it’s not permanent. The devil can just as easily reach out and pull you back down as you escaped.

On an only marginally happier note, the story doesn’t start in hell. It starts in ancient Rome with a group of slaves; Peter, Patrick, Joseph and Andrew. For a group of young slaves, they were treated fairly well. The room they slept in at night was fairly light and roomy, little wooden beds against each wall for each of the four. They were allowed a meal a day and a slice of bread in the morning. All four were kept as healthy and as clean as a slave could be.

Patrick thought life was pretty good. He had his three friends with him, his cleaning duties and he was hardly ever punished. The four boys at least had fun together when they had nothing to do.

 Patrick sang a lot, and since it entertained their master, no-one ever complained. Andy often joined in tapping out percussion on the nearest wall, or Joe’s back, whatever was closest. Pete would usually be found beaming at Patrick to encourage him from across the room, always cheering him on.

The best part about their owner though? He was human. The whole of his family were human. Pete knew he’d had a close call when, at market, one of the city’s vampire clans started to eye him up, but luckily, someone snapped him up before he could be brought and he met Patrick, Joe, and Andy, the four becoming fast friends.

 

It was common place for slaves to be brought by the vampires of Rome, used as thralls and walking blood bags until they became incapacitated and ended up more as a shell of a human shaped blood bag piled into rooms with replacements.  It was easier than going out hunting, just to have a stock supply kept in a room.

 

Things seemed good. The boy’s master’s young daughter doted on Andy, enthralled by his mean outward demeanour until he spoke, then enthralled by his soft spoken words and the love he had for everyone and everything. If anyone had to put her to bed in the evening, she’d always pout and whine until Andy was sent in to talk her to sleep. If anyone lost Andy, he’d usually be sitting in the child’s room, his arm trapped under her body as he sat next to her bed, not wanting to move and wake her up. He’d always have a little dopy smile on his face when someone walked in, entertained by the fact that he’d found a place he was actually valued and loved by his friends and the kid.

Andy hadn’t always had it so good. It was never terrible, but his first master did tend to beat Andy fairly liberally whenever he messed up. It felt good to be looked after. Pete’s last master was the same. Joe and Patrick however, they didn’t remember anything but the master they had together.

Joe was abandoned as a child, he never knew his parents very well, sold into slavery when he was ten. He assumed he’d probably blocked his memories out of his parents either way.

Patrick though, Patrick’s mother was a slave, his father her master. They certainly weren’t in love. Not wanting the bastard child around, his father let his mother raise Patrick until the age of ten, then sold him to the markets. He didn’t remember anything of his mother or his first master/father, much like Joe, having blocked them out. Neither of the younger slaves cared all that much though, by then in their early twenties and happy to have each other and another two friends.


	2. Chapter 2

Of Course, things couldn’t always be so good. Their master was old, practically on death’s door by the time they were brought by him; they all knew they didn’t have long left of relative bliss. Pete was the one to find him.

Their master had seemed find in the morning, but just before the boys were due to retire to bed, Pete stumbled across him laying face down in the dining room. He carried their master the whole way to the master bedroom, laying him on the bed before he reluctantly went to find their mistress.

Only a day of sombre silence passed before all four boys were shipped back to the markets. Understandably, Pete and Andy were the most nervous, terrified of being taken away from the comfort of a nice master, frightened of losing their friends.

Joe and Patrick didn’t quite understand the gravity of it. They kept telling the others over and over that they’d be fine, that they’d be together still, no matter what happened that there was nothing to fear.

 

The moment they arrived at the market, the little bubble Joe and Patrick seemed to exist within burst. The four were dragged away from each other, bound with their hands behind their backs and re-collared to be shut away in wooden cages ready for the market the next day. Only then were Patrick and Joe starting to panic, locked away alone all night for the first time. None of the four slept at all in the night.

 

The market itself terrified the two younger slaves even more, all the bustling people staring and talking about them as they walked through the cages and stands. They felt like animals, and to these people, that’s all they were.

Patrick had his head down the entire time until he started to see the feet of potential buyers start to move away from his cage, and the constant chattering quieting down. Only then did he look up.

The crowds of people were slowly parting and Patrick could only just see through them, a group of men easily making their way through the crowds, led by a man in a flowing white toga, long hair and golden eyes.

 

Vampire.

 

Patrick lowered his head again the moment the vampire made eye contact with him, swallowing thickly and praying to any god that might listen that the vampire would just pass by him. He didn’t.

 

The whole group stopped in front of Patrick’s cage, sneering and eyeing him up, Patrick shying back under their cold eyes. They didn’t even say a word to him as the leader clicked, signalling he wanted Patrick and of course, no-one would argue as two of the vampires that were following the leader dragged Patrick from his cage.

In the distance, he could hear shouting, someone calling out for him, begging almost, though he couldn’t understand what they were saying in their screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't updated in ages because I am a bad person


	3. Chapter 3

Patrick had prayed with all his being that the vampire clan that had brought him would also purchase his three friends, but he could never be so lucky. He’d started to beg the leader of the clan whilst they were still in the markets, only to be slapped hard and told to shut his mouth if he knew what was good for him.

Patrick clearly didn’t know what was good for him.

He’d started begging again as he was loaded into the back of a cart, pleading with the vampire to at least take one of his friends. He didn’t want to be alone; he didn’t want to die alone.

Before he could cause more of a scene, a piece of rope was shoved into his mouth to gag him since he wouldn’t take the hint from the snarls and warning glares he elicited from the vampires around him.

Soon, the cart had set off, the market growing further and further way from Patrick’s teary vision.

 

Pete had spotted the vampires stalking around the market before Patrick had, his heart in his throat as he watched them approach Patrick’s cage. A vampire’s thrall was no life for the young slave, no life at all, and Pete could do nothing but watch.

He didn’t even realise he’d been yelling for Patrick, trying to tell him it would be okay, that he’d see him again. Pete didn’t believe it though.

Eventually, he’d tired himself out and collapsed down in his cage, his mind numb and throat aching. He’d only looked up at the figure standing only a couple feet from his cage, golden glowing eyes, slick black hair.

Pete had started to shake his head, but the vampire had clearly already chosen. Soon, he too was dragged from his cage, too numb to fight, and loaded into the back of a cart to be taken to, what he assumed would be, his death. Away from his friends, away from any comfort, away from a chance of earning his freedom.

 

Joe was lucky his cage had been set up close to Andy’s, the older slave uttering calming words as they watched their friends being taken away by vampire clans. Joe would have been panicking if not for Andy, he didn’t know a life without the group.

The pair were beyond lucky to have been sold together towards sundown, cheaper as a pair. Or at least, they thought they were lucky.

 

As they were both loaded up together, expecting to be taken to a homestead, the cart took the turning out of the town centre and towards the Coliseum and both boys knew for sure in that moment that they wouldn’t see another week. They’d just be entertainment in their final pained seconds.

 

For all four friends, a painful, lonely death looked to be very much on the cards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo guys, I'm back with this whack AU, writing a page at a time so I don't go mad.   
> Comments are really, really appreciated, it's the only thing that gives me motivation to write, to come back and see what people like, say, or want to know!
> 
> I run a 16 candles Patrick Ask blog on tumblr @16candles-Patrick which is a massive shit show, and if you ever want to RP AUs, feel free to message me there!


	4. Patrick

The tears had slowed by the time Patrick had reached the clan’s homestead, a grand building, far too extravagant to have ever belonged to a human.

He’d expected to be at least helped down from the cart and allowed to stumble inside.

He didn’t quite realise just how little he meant to these things. To them, he was just a blood bag, just meat. Only one vampire was sent to collect Patrick, dragging him down from the cart and to the floor, then to drag him along the dusty floor by the rope binding his wrists.

He didn’t understand that he couldn’t make a noise, he couldn’t disobey a single command, he’d been so used to everyone being lenient towards the young slave. He’d started to beg into his rope gag, only to receive his first beating at the hands of his new masters before he’d even gotten inside.

 

By the time he was finally dragged in, his nose was bleeding and he could feel his ribs bruising up under his ripped and bloodied tunic. He had no-one to comfort him, no-one to cry to when he was finally given a moment of respite, locked away inside a tiny, damp room that he’d have to learn was the only place he belonged now.

 

Patrick didn’t know what would become of his friends. He hoped, prayed, that they wouldn’t fall to the same fate he was facing, but unbeknownst to him, it was already too late.

 

He was lucky, at least, that his duties started before sundown, and it wasn’t just to become dinner.

 

He was eventually ordered from the room and down to the kitchens, having to limp a little with his ankle and leg badly damaged from his first beating. He seemed to be the only slave on the premises, which didn’t exactly settle the nausea in his stomach.

Slowly, he’d taken the wine jug he’d been sent to bring to his master’s quarters and headed out of the kitchen to do as told. At least, despite being fairly vocal, he was excellent at obeying orders when he knew he really should.

 

It took Patrick a while, but he eventually found the bedroom he was looking for, knocking on the wall just outside before he entered.

 

The young slave was greeted by the vampire that had picked him at first from the market, sitting down on his bed, a little smirk on his face.

 

The vampire didn’t say a word as he beckoned Patrick over, holding out the empty goblet he had clutched in one clawed hand. The moment Patrick got close enough to start pouring wine for him though, the other clawed hand shot out and grabbed Patrick’s wrist, yanking him down with one swift movement and plunging his fangs into the slave’s neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teenage boy, will write for comments.  
> Also, do none of you RP, bc I only have like 1 going rn and I am McFucking desperate.


	5. Pete

If Pete had known he’d been taken to the same homestead as Patrick, he’d have done nothing but search for his friend.

He was completely numb, no sense in fighting, he reasoned. He just couldn’t bring himself to even think about what was happening to his friends by then. Patrick was probably already dead; Joe and Andy were probably separated and half beaten to death. His mind was running away without him.

As he was dragged into the house, he saw another vampire leaving what looked to be a bedroom, a smirk on his lips as he stared straight back at Pete, pushing his own long hair from his eyes.

“Get yours to clean up in there, Urie-“ His voice seemed too high and lilting for the creature, the demon he really was.

Pete reasoned that this vampire was the one in charge, since the one holding him only nodded obediently and dragged Pete back outside to collect water. Pete didn’t have the willpower to argue, so he just stumbled along, carrying a bucket back for him once he’d been shown where to collect it from.

Urie left him alone after ordering him into the bedroom to clean up, and Pete couldn’t say he wasn’t thankful that he wasn’t immediately just made a walking blood-bag.

 

The bucket of water was dropped the second Pete entered the room. Luckily it didn’t fall and spill everywhere, but at least half of it was lost on the dirty floor. He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to believe it.

 

Patrick was lying in the corner, curled around himself and shivering. He’d been stripped naked, his ankle tied to one of the legs of a dresser at the side of the room. He only flinched when Pete entered, his eyes only half lidded he was so exhausted. Two bite marks blemished his neck, deep and messy. They hadn’t been closed up, the vampire didn’t care.

The closer Pete got to him, his steps slow and shaky, the more damage he saw. Patrick’s trembling thighs were slick with blood and semen, and it didn’t take a genius to work out what had happened to the slave.

 

Pete slowly managed to crouch at Patrick’s side, gently pushing his sweaty fringe from his teary eyes. Patrick only reacted to the gentle touch, his eyes flickering open. They were bloodshot, the pupils over-dilated, but the sight of Pete only made it worse. He tried to curl up tighter, covering his head with his arms. He didn’t want Pete to see him like this. He was disgusting. Pete didn’t see it though, he though what had been done to Patrick was disgusting, not the young slave himself.

 

Neither friend could even talk, could affirm that they were together again. It hardly mattered, Patrick was hurt, and that was more important. Pete soon set to work in cleaning him up, gently prompting Patrick to move for him so he could use the water he’d collected to clean him off, constantly whispering words of affection and comfort to try to soothe him.

The life that his master had chosen for Patrick was far worse than Pete could have ever imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live for comments


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